


There's Something About You (That I Could Get Into)

by wherehopelies



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Friends With Benefits, Sexy Times, Sort Of, stream of consciousness emily goes HARD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 09:12:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14040960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wherehopelies/pseuds/wherehopelies
Summary: "For most of her life, Emily has always felt like too much."EMILY POV of my friends with benefits fic from bemily week





	There's Something About You (That I Could Get Into)

**Author's Note:**

> this is emilys pov for my other fic (im starting to want you more than i want to). recommend reading that first if you haven't. originally just wrote this for my gf because she wanted more but it got kind of long and the world always needs more bemily

For most of her life, Emily has always felt like too much.

She’s always felt too tall, too lanky, too awkward. Her laugh is too weird and she talks way too much. She’s loud and goofy and she just doesn’t _fit_ into the world the way other people seem to.

It’s like there was an Emily-sized hole in the universe, just waiting for her to fill it up, and she accidentally got too big and too loud and too much and had to uncomfortably squeeze herself the tiniest amount so she might fill the stencil in just right.

//

She’s drawn to Beca Mitchell for reasons she can and can’t explain.

The most obvious was music - _that_ she can make sense of. Beca seemed to see the world differently, in the music of the moment and the tapping of pens and the honking of horns. That was something Emily could understand.

When she felt too loud, when she felt too much, she could always turn the music louder, let it fill spaces bigger than what it was meant for.

//

Beca makes Emily feel quiet.

Being around her is like a hand to her back, comforting and present. Emily settles. She feels she might sink into moments and just live in them instead of always trying to find where she fits.

There are things about these feelings that Emily doesn’t quite understand.

Like how Beca’s always balanced the way the world tilts or how she walks into a room and Emily breathes just a little differently. She makes the constant buzz in Emily’s ears disappear.

Emily feels her life is a constant carousel ride, spinning and dizzy and loud. But when Beca’s around, she’s at the bottom of a pool and everything is quiet and peaceful and caught in a moment, like a bubble or a snowglobe.

Emily likes how Beca is the ocean tide, foamy and ebbing, gentle and there, back and forth, back and forth, like a hammock on a summer day or your favorite song that makes you a little sad with nostalgia but happy, too, because you used to be someone you no longer are.

//

Emily’s only had sex with one person and that was Benji.

Sex with Benji was awkward and bashful and beautiful. He was cute and nice and the kind of boy Emily always thought she might marry. It took them four months of dating to build up to it, and when they did, Emily felt comfortable.

But she also felt like she was all limbs and bony elbows and much too present. She could feel his scratchy sheets and hear the way his stomach gurgled and her hands always felt so dry. Sex with Benji made the buzzing in her brain grow loud and agitated, and after, she’d take long showers with her head under the spray, liking the way the water would flow over her ears and seal her away for a little while.

//

Sometimes Emily wants to live in a song.

She wants to swim in the colors of a beat and know that the end is two minutes away but not care at all. She thinks she might sleep in the belly of treble clef and fall asleep to its rhythmic pulse and she wouldn’t have to think about how she doesn’t fit at all, because music is something that fits with _you_ , and not the other way around.

//

Emily doesn’t have expectations when the power goes out, and she doesn’t have expectations when they drink too much tequila and Beca’s eyes start tracing constellations on her skin.

She doesn’t even have expectations when her body moves over Beca’s to kiss her. She just knows that there’s a string being fine-tuned and pulled taut between them, and she’s afraid if she doesn’t let it drag her in, it might snap.

Beca’s fingers grip her waist and Emily feels the texture of conversation beginning. She answers by settling on top of Beca, like when you hold a seashell to your ear and you can hear the ocean echoing back at you from miles away.

“Is this okay?” She whispers, and Beca nods, her eyes magnetic in the darkness. Emily kisses her again and she feels like she the moment is covering her like a blanket, fitting and molding around their bodies, carving a space in time just for them.

Beca’s hands ease under her shirt and Emily shivers as they crawl up her back, counting the ridges in her spine like beats in a measure. She tugs Emily’s shirt up to her shoulders and over her head and Emily gasps, her skin hot against Beca’s.

The corner of Beca’s lips lift the slightest amount. Emily thinks she’s beautiful, loves the way Beca’s eyes say so much in the quiet.

She pushes her hair back, leaning down to kiss Beca again when her hand grabs Emily around the neck and tugs just a little, gentle and eager. She laughs into Beca’s mouth, playful and happy, enjoying Beca’s fingers on her skin, the way her hips shift under Emily’s.

Beca’s fingers tap a beat into her collarbones and Emily listens, matching her breathing to it. She drags herself away from Beca’s lips and kisses across her neck, up to her ear. Beca’s breath hitches. She leans on her elbow and knees, lifting herself up and sliding one hand down to pull Beca’s sweats lower on her hips. Beca grunts and kicks them off all the way, tugging at the drawstrings of Emily’s shorts and pushing them down her legs.

Emily feels her entire body heat up, her skin clammy and warm. Then Beca’s fingers are slipping in her underwear and she shudders out a breath, her heart caught in her throat.

She presses her nose to Beca’s cheek and closes her eyes, her body listening to Beca’s and answering in the quietest way she’s ever known.

She sinks into Beca like she’s sitting on the bottom of a swimming pool, bubbles rushing from her nose until she can’t _breathe,_ and when Beca slips inside her, she finally breaks the surface, coming up for air.

And then it’s just her, and Beca, and the quiet.

//

 Emily's always been an overthinker. Her brain's always going a mile a minute and her mouth struggles to keep up.

But as they lie in the darkness, Beca draped over her and nuzzling into her neck, Emily's mind is empty.

Beca’s skin is soft under her fingers and she presses kisses to her hairline sometimes, just reveling in the stillness and the peace.

Emily's floating, weightless on the ebb and flow of Beca's breathing, her thoughts a galaxy spinning into each other with no particular direction.

Then the lights turn on, and Emily’s on a carousel, dizzy and discombobulated.

Beca’s warmth leaves her and then she’s sitting up, suddenly too weird and too big and too naked. She puts her shirt back on and her galaxy thoughts solidify, rushing back like a tidal wave.

_What just happened? Oh God, we had sex. I’m drunk. Beca hated it. She hates me. Oh no, it’s going to be awkward. Should we talk about this? It’s fine, it’s Beca, Beca doesn’t hate me she doesn’t we’re just awkward we’re always awkward ohgodshehatesme_

“We should talk in the morning,” Beca’s saying, her hands wringing together and her hair out of place and her eyes, beautiful and dark, skirting all around the room. “When things make more sense? Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Emily’s nodding, because it is. Her brain is too full and she can hear her breath in her ears and Beca’s fingers tapping against her palm and she misses the quiet, the stillness of Beca’s body speaking with hers.

She focuses on Beca’s eyes, the twitching of her lips. _I’m sorry,_ they seem to be saying, _I just need some time,_ and Emily exhales her nerves into nonexistence.

They go to bed.

Emily turns the lights off and blows out the candles. She waits until Beca’s shut in her room to brush her teeth and wash up. Then she crawls under her covers and breathes in the solitude of the darkness, feeling full and peaceful and happy.

She closes her eyes, and lets the silence of the night swallow her whole.

//

She tells Beca she doesn’t regret it, and she doesn’t.

Emily holds the night close to her heart. She’s not naive enough to think Beca wants her or is in love with her, or that she’s even in love with Beca.

But she thinks she understands herself a little better now, has had her eyes opened to the way her body can communicate with someone else’s. She thinks maybe she can read Beca better too, wonders if maybe they were always made to talk without saying anything, like the words they tell each other are just placeholders for what they really mean.

Emily thinks maybe she can live here now, in this space where Beca smiles and Emily gleans a thousand different meanings from it. She thinks she can navigate through Beca’s tap-tapping on her mug and the jittering of her foot and hear her thoughts through some sort of Morse code.

She wonders how she’s never seen Beca like this before, how she thinks Beca is perhaps the most expressive person Emily’s ever met. She can’t stop looking at her, studying the twitch of her nose and the crinkle of her eyebrows.

Beca seems to be saying so much into the silence and Emily just wants to sit and listen.

//

“No feelings,” Beca breathes into the space between them and Emily stares.

She doesn’t know how to do anything without feelings. Her feelings are always there, buzzing around her head like some obnoxious insect, clinging to her like a shadow.

And being with Beca had made her feel _so much_. Like Emily was a cup under a faucet that she couldn’t turn off and she kept getting fuller and fuller until she was overflowing with it all, with how much _love_ she has for Beca and her heart.

But she knows what Beca means. Beca means no romantic feelings, no confessions of love, no dating.

Emily’s okay with that, as long as Beca keeps easing her into that quiet place where nothing can break through.

Emily has feelings - a lot of them - but not like that.

//

They fall into some sort of routine for awhile.

Emily thinks it’s a long and intricate conversation that never really stops.

_How was your day_ , Beca’s fingers slip under her shirt, her nails coaxing shivers from Emily.

_I just want to stay here for a while_ , Emily responds, her nose settling into Beca’s hair, her back finally untensing from being hunched over her laptop all afternoon.

Beca’s teeth nip lightly at Emily’s lips, _I’m so sick of my job_ , Emily rubs circles into Beca’s hips, _Let’s forget about everything for now_.

Emily likes this back and forth, loves to live in the quiet space behind Beca’s ribcage where she keeps her hidden thoughts.

She wonders if sex is always like this, two people saying so much without ever saying anything.

Or maybe it’s just Beca. Maybe they were always meant to share their thoughts in this way, with a look or a kiss or a touch.

//

_Emily_ : Stacie? Can I ask you something?

_Stacie:_ What’s up buttercup

_Emily:_ why do you like sex so much

_Stacie:_ i mean... have you /had/ an orgasm

_Stacie:_ omg wait are you dating someone

_Emily:_ no

_Stacie:_ who are you sleeping with

_Emily:_ k nvm

_Stacie:_ okay im sorry dont go. whats going on

_Emily:_ nothing im just… having a lot of feelings

_Stacie:_ for someone youre having sex with?

_Emily:_ im not sure. maybe just about sex

_Stacie:_ how often

_Emily:_ often

_Stacie:_ youre just friends?

_Emily:_ yes

_Emily:_ i mean i think so

_Stacie:_ sounds complicated

_Emily:_ but it doesnt feel complicated. i just wanted to ask if it always feels like this or if it’s the person im with

_Stacie:_ idk im sure it’s different for everyone. i like it because it feels good and it’s fun but it’s obviously better with some people than with others

_Emily:_ do you feel like you know the person better because of it

_Stacie:_ sometimes but not always

_Emily:_ hm

_Stacie:_ can you tell me whats going on

_Emily:_ um… not rn. maybe eventually

_Stacie:_ ok. just tell me you’re being safe

_Emily:_ i am

_Stacie:_ use protection

_Stacie:_ speaking of which bella says hello

_Stacie:_ [attachment]

_Emily:_ she’s cute i miss you guys

_Stacie:_ we miss you too. i love you em. im here if you need anything ok?

_Emily:_ i know. i love you too

//

She doesn’t know if it was gradual, like easing into a hot bath, or if it was in that moment, sudden and surprising, like jumping into a pool.

One second she’s pulling Beca closer, her palms under Beca’s chin and her fingers scratching behind Beca’s ears. She’s looking at Beca and Beca’s looking at her - and then suddenly it’s different.

It’s like they’re having a conversation and Beca stops in the middle and changes the topic and Emily can’t keep up.

Beca stutters over a breath and Emily feels it reverberate through her, the echoing of something new.

_I think I -_ Beca’s eyes say.

_Think you what?_

Her thumbs caress over Beca’s cheekbones, gentle and patient.

_I think I like -_ Beca blinks - _maybe we shouldn’t do this._

_Don’t be scared_ , Emily breathes, her lips on Beca’s neck, her fingers tracing a pattern inside her thighs. _I know you. I’ve heard you. I want you back._

Beca shivers, her grip on Emily’s shoulder tightening. _Okay_ , she says. _Okayokayokay-_

_Okay._

//

Emily has feelings. She let the quiet fill her until she was drowning in it and now she can’t get out unless she coughs up the words they’re never supposed to say.

She thinks Beca might have feelings, too, but Beca avoids her for a few days, making excuses about work and being busy and _ohno_ what if she heard everything wrong.

Maybe she thought she was supposed to listen, but Beca wasn’t even saying anything.

What if she made the whole thing up in her head because she liked the quiet? What if they’re supposed to talk about this with words? What if they were never meant to hear what the other never wanted to say?

//

“I have feelings,” Emily says, and her voice feels too loud in the kitchen.

She feels too big, too lanky, like she doesn’t quite fit into this time and space.

“I’m sorry,” Emily says, and what she means is _I thought I could hear you but maybe it was just in my head_.

“Don’t worry about it, alright?” Beca feels like a closed door and Emily’s pretty sure she’s going to cry. She’s always so _much_ , she never _fits_ , never does anything the way you’re supposed to.

And then Beca’s gone, and Emily is alone, and it’s quiet and quiet and quiet and for once, she hates it.

//

When Emily was seven she got lost at the county fair.

One minute her mom was there by the cotton candy and the next Emily was in front of the teacups, unsure why she was alone.

“If you ever get lost, stay in one place until I come get you, okay?” She remembered her mom saying once. So she got on the teacups and she spun and spun and spun until her mom was climbing in with her and scooping her up in her arms, frantic and out of breath.

“There you are, honey, never scare me like that again, we’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Emily stood up from the teacups, dizzy and panting. Vision blurring and everything a kaleidoscope of sound and color, she felt an overwhelming discomfort in her small body.

She took one breath, then another, and then she threw up on her mom’s shoes and cried until her dad put her on his back and carried her home.

//

The afternoon is a kaleidoscope of sound and color and Emily remembers being seven and spinning round and round on the teacups until she threw up.

She turns her music loud and tries to drown out the buzzing in her head, the beating of her own heart.

She stands in the shower under the spray, letting warm water wash over her ears and seal her away, but she can still feel pins under her skin, an itch in her bones.

Nothing helps. Her thoughts collect like dew behind her eyes until they’re spilling over her cheeks. She piles her textbooks on the kitchen table and disappears into her laptop, only looking up to order a pizza when she gets hungry.

She loses herself in facts and figures, loves how they line up into theories and modules, perfect and linear. She loves how well everything fits.

She almost doesn’t hear Beca come home, might not have given it a second thought if Beca hadn’t cautiously stepped into her space, her fingers twisting around themselves. “Can we talk?” She asks and Emily doesn’t want to.

She thinks everything is too _much_ and Beca’s going to hate her for being so, too. Her and her giant dumb feelings and her personality that doesn’t fit right in this relationship.

“Can’t we just forget I said anything?” Emily squeaks out because she doesn’t want to cry anymore, doesn’t want to bring more big feelings into this space. She just wants everything to be quieter, even if it’s not as quiet as when they’re together, but anything is better than this teacup spinning and her stupid heart beating in her ears.

“I don’t think so…” Beca frowns, and Emily wants to sink into the bottom of a quiet, pressurized swimming pool and not surface for a few days or maybe a year. “I don’t want to, I mean,” Beca is quick to say and Emily stills.

Everything stills. Her heart, the buzzing, time and space and everything in between.

“I have feelings. Umm, feelings for you. Like more than just… sex feelings…”

Emily wonders if this is the part where she gets off the teacups and throws up.

“We have feelings for each other?” She manages to ask, and they’re both frowning at each other, puzzled and confused, unsure how they got there.

“Is that okay?” Beca’s saying and the spinning stops. She’s so dizzy. And Beca’s eyes are saying _please let it be okay, I think I love you I think you’re beautiful I’d like to just stay here for awhile._

Emily laughs, loud and full and maybe just a little too much, but she doesn’t care. “Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, that’s okay.”

And then Beca’s lips are lifting up at the corners, her fingers are tugging her shirt down uncomfortably, her whole body is saying _thank you for listening when I didn’t know what to say._

And then they’re kissing, Beca standing between her legs, Emily’s fingers crawling up the back of her shirt.

“I thought I was too much,” Emily whispers and Beca pulls back, her lips turning down in concern.

“No,” Beca says, and the fabric of the universe molds around them, a perfect outline of who are they are right now. “No. You’re just right.”

**Author's Note:**

> pls hmu at emilyjunk.tumblr.com


End file.
